Romance Themes Challenge: Syd and Sky
by C.A. Elenath
Summary: A collection of stories written in response to the Ars Amatoria Ranger Romance Theme Challenge.
1. Dependence

**Disclaimer**: _Non-profit, for pure sport. And what a tough sport it is._

**Author's Note: **_Written for the Ranger Romance Theme Challenge at Ars Amatoria. This piece was written and released without my usual scrupulous second and third rounds of fine-tuning and without a second opinion. I'm turning it over to the masses because I'll nitpick needlessly if I keep it to myself, and I have other projects that need finishing. This was supposed to be a brief drabble anyway. Heh…who was I fooling :-) _

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**Dependence**

He sat on the patient bed, legs crossed at the ankles, hands in his lap. Somehow he'd come to be in flawless full uniform again, but he wasn't doing anything. His back was against the headboard and he sat absolutely still, staring ahead at something she was sure he couldn't see.

Her approaching footsteps broke the stillness, making his gaze dart in her direction. But his eyes were cast downward, unfocused, useless, and, she thought, a little scared. He looked so different now that that he wasn't able to glare at anyone. It seemed like the one whose expression hardly ever changed ended up being the one easiest to read.

"You're still here?" Syd tsked as she walked in and perched on the tall stool that stood beside the bed. "You've been here all day. When was the last time you've eaten anything?"

Sky frowned at her scolding, but didn't reply.

"I know your voice works just fine," she went on, trying to provoke him into some kind of reaction, preferably some type of motion. "You've got to eat something. What do you want? I'll get it. I'm not leaving until you do."

He wasn't taking her bait, and that's when she grew really concerned.

"Sky," she said, this time very gently. "You can't just sit here and wait for your vision to come back."

"Yes I can," he said stubbornly, and if the situation hadn't been so serious, she would have smiled at his naïveté.

"No you can't," she said firmly. "I'm going to get food into you, and then you're going to go back to your room."

She didn't wait for a reply this time. Out she flounced, out of the medical wing and to the rec room with its handy food replicator. After a minute of deliberation, she settled on some granola with yogurt and a fruit salad. Both would be easy enough for Sky to eat, healthy enough so he wouldn't fuss, and hearty enough that he wouldn't starve to death before she could get him to try a more substantial meal. She added to this a glass of cranberry juice and returned to the medical wing.

"You." She carefully set the tray of food on his lap. "You eat or I force feed you. It's that simple."

He moved his hands to steady the tray, and asked with the reluctant curiosity of someone who didn't want to give in to her bullying, but was hungry enough to respond to the presence of food, "What is it?"

"Granola and yogurt, and a fruit salad," she answered. In her hand was the glass of juice, taken from the tray so it wouldn't spill. "I brought you some cranberry juice too."

"It's not morning, is it?"

She hadn't realized that the selection she'd brought was somewhat breakfast-y, but it worked out because technically this was Sky's first meal of the day.

"It's late afternoon, Sky. I told you, you've been here all day. Couldn't you tell?"

"No, I couldn't!" he burst out, startling her. His voice was a mix of irritation and something else a little more frantic. "I can't tell if it's been half a day or three! I can't tell what time it is or who keeps wandering in here, talking down to me like I'm some child or a helpless, pathetic creature—"

His hands were gripping the tray so tightly, his knuckles went white. This spasm of emotion worried her ten-fold times more than the fact that he was blind. Kat had been pretty sure that his loss of vision wasn't permanent, but she didn't know how long it would take for his vision to come back. Judging from the felinoid's expression when she had told them, she wasn't expecting it to be anytime soon. Sky would have to learn to function without his eyesight, a reality Syd knew he didn't want to face. There would be no Rangering, no training simulations, no patrolling in the city. There would be nothing of the things he knew how to do best, nothing of the things he lived for.

She picked up a square of honeydew and put it against his lips. Coddling wouldn't quiet him, so she instead tried to get him to do something useful, like eat. His hand came up and took the cube from her fingers, holding it away for a moment before eating it. She watched as his hand descended back to the tray, groping around the circumference of the fruit bowl curiously before reaching in and withdrawing a grape. He ate very slowly, hesitating before he put each piece of fruit in his mouth. Maybe he was trying to guess what each one was first, either from its feel or from its smell.

The bowl of granola and yogurt, which would require the use of a spoon, sat untouched. When the last of the fruit was gone, she gently took his hand and pressed the glass of juice into it. This time he visibly sniffed the contents as he put the glass to his lips, then finished it all in one swill. She smiled.

"Feeling better?" she asked lightly.

He set the empty glass down on the tray. "Kind of."

"You still have your granola."

He raised an eyebrow at that, but it looked so strange this time when his gaze was so blank. "No cardboard?"

That was what she usually called granola when she saw him eating it.

"I think there's some in there," she returned genially.

His expression turned a little suspicious as he fumbled for the bowl and spoon. She rolled her eyes; the thought of tricking him at this point was the furthest from her mind.

"There's sugar in here," he complained after he swallowed his first bite. That made her peer closer at the layers in the clear plastic bowl.

"No, there isn't."

"I can taste it," he insisted.

"I don't see any in there."

"It's brown sugar. It blends in."

The strange irony of their argument hit them both at the same time, and they lapsed into a weird silence. He continued to eat without a word, and when he was finished, he seemed significantly calmer.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"Any time."

His unfocused stare continued to unnerve her. There was usually such a sharp look in his eyes, and though there was still a strong awareness in them now, it was awareness of new sensations, of senses that had always been secondary when he'd been able to see.

"Come on," she took the tray from him and set it aside, then tugged at his hands. "You'll be more comfortable in your room. And I bet Bridge misses having someone to talk at."

Sky let out a long-suffering sigh, but obediently swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up without much difficulty. It was when he was on his feet that he failed to move any further, seemingly frozen in place with a deep frown marring his features. He closed his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Syd asked immediately, moving in closer. "Are you still dizzy? Do you want to sit back down?"

"It's not that," he opened his eyes briefly, frustration evident in their pale green depths. "It didn't matter so much when I was sitting there, but now when I have to move, I want to wait until I can see again, as if my eyes will adjust and the darkness will go away. But I know it won't. I can't see anything, Syd, not even light and dark. Everything's just black."

She swallowed as her heart went out to him, at the same time feeling disconcerted to see the Blue Ranger almost frightened. There weren't many weak spots in the walls he locked his emotions behind, but the few that existed were especially thin. Being this helpless had to be driving him out of his mind.

"It'll be okay," she soothed, reaching for the fist he had clenched at his side and clasping it comfortingly between her hands. "_You'll_ be okay." She took his arm. "But for now, you have to let us help you."

"I can't even walk without someone's help," he said miserably. "I hate needing to rely on people."

"Don't I know," she teased. "I bet you could learn to get around fine on your own so long as the Base doesn't transform. You've already got the layout of the Academy memorized."

She pulled on his arm, trying to coax him to take a step forward. He obliged, and after a few supremely cautious steps, his stride became a little more natural. As they rounded their first corner in the corridor, however, his free hand reached out for her, a seemingly unconscious effort, and she took hold of it without a word, relishing the feel of his fingers tucked trustingly inside hers.

Her eyes were on his face for most of the trek to his room. Occasionally they would pass a cadet who looked curiously at the Blue Ranger, at his halting steps and closed eyes, and the way he grasped the shorter Pink Ranger's arm as he walked. A warning glare from Syd kept them quiet.

When the pair reached Sky's room, he let go of her hand, walking forward more confidently, almost pulling away from her. She imagined he knew his tiny living space quite intimately, and would be able to move around with relative ease even without his vision. He found his bed without her help, and she knew then she was right in her guess that he'd be more comfortable here.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, head turned in her general direction.

"Now what?" he asked after a silent pause.

To be honest, she hadn't thought that far ahead.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I promised Z I'd work out with her for an hour tonight, but Jack and Bridge should be done with their shifts by then. They could keep you company while I'm gone. That is, if you want."

She wracked her mind for ideas of activities he could keep busy with, preferably ones that made him feel useful, but was dismayed to find she could think of none.

Sky started to nod absently at her suggestion, but his expression suddenly turned very troubled.

"Syd, has Cruger said anything about what will happen to the team while I'm…out of commission?"

_Can I ever be a Ranger again?_ The subtext in his question was clear as day.

"He said he's willing to wait a little while to see if your condition improves. We should be okay if Shadow Ranger pitches in."

He nodded again, and said quite plaintively, "I hate this."

"So do we," she said sympathetically. Then she added a little quieter, "Having you out there made me feel safe."

Somehow it was easier to admit that to him when she knew he couldn't see her, and especially when he wasn't looking at her. She felt a little guilty for it, as if she were taking advantage of his predicament. But it was also easier to go and sit down beside him, to put her arm around him and give him a heartfelt squeeze. Her head told her that her coddling would just make him feel worse, but her heart said it was the right thing to do.

"Let me return the favor," she said softly.

He didn't answer her verbally, but she felt his arm come around her and squeeze her back. They sat in companionable silence for a long while, having no need for words. Evening came and darkened the room around them, but only Syd noticed and she didn't care.

Eventually, the hour that she'd promised to spend with Z arrived, and by then, the only illumination in the room was from city lights filtering in through the curtains. Only with the utmost reluctance did Syd break the fragile stillness.

"I have to go," she said awkwardly. "I'm supposed to meet with Z now."

Immediately, Sky's arm fell away from around her, and she slowly rose to her feet, feeling graceless and a little sorry that she had said anything.

"Do you want me to find Jack or Bridge? I'm sure they'd be pretty entertaining to have around."

"That's okay," he declined, that eerie blank stare pointed towards the floor.

"Are you sure?" She edged backwards incrementally towards the door though she was unwilling to leave him. Now that he knew she had plans, he might feel like she was babying him if she insisted on staying.

"I'll be fine." He lay down and stretched out on the bed, closing his eyes.

The doors slid open when her foot hit the threshold, and the light that spilled in from the rec room hurt her eyes, which were accustomed to the dark. She raised a hand to shield them protectively, and immediately felt a pang of sorrow as the thought occurred to her that Sky wouldn't be reacting at all behind her. The whole world was a room of darkness to him.

"I'll see you later, okay?" she was trying to be cheerful, but she realized too late how tactless her choice of farewell words was. She winced in spite of herself and quickly turned away.

"Syd?"

She paused mid-step, pretty much ready to say yes to anything he might have asked for.

"Can you stay?"

He sounded so lost, so tremulous, as if he were afraid to ask her, or perhaps embarrassed that he did. It broke her heart, and for the first time in her life, she would have done anything to give Sky his old spark of over-confidence back. Her blue eyes were misty as she stepped away from the doors, darkness enveloping her once more when they slid shut.

"Of course," she answered him, more so he'd know she was still there. Even as she spoke, she was moving towards the bed, climbing on to sit beside him.

She wasn't sure how it happened exactly, but a series of shifts in the dark resulted in them drawing closer and closer together until she was sitting in his lap, her back against his chest, his arms around her waist with their fingers intertwined. She could feel his rapid heartbeat against her shoulder blade, the only indication that their close proximity might have meant more to him than he let on. She herself felt pretty relaxed, safe, warm, and maybe a little giddy.

His fingers kept trailing idly over her hands as he held them, exploring her palms, the skin on the backsides, and a bit of her wrists with his fingertips. He never went past the edges of her sleeves. At first it was a little creepy, until she realized why he was doing it. Robbed of the security of being able to see, he was discovering the comfort of tactile affirmation, of physical touch. That was the reason he'd asked her to stay with him. For now, it was all he had.

- -

**Author's Note II**_: One-shot. I don't know what the heck happened out there. ;-)_


	2. Spellbound

**Disclaimer**_: That many diamonds, you know I don't own it._

**Author's Note**_: Rated for innuendos of mature themes. Takes place during "Walls". _

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_What's it like to have to work with your crush every day…_

**Spellbound**

There was no better place to be on assignment than snug in the company of two of her favorite things in the whole wide world. To her right, a steadily growing pile of uncut but still beautiful diamonds—a girl's best friend, as the old adage went. And to her left, in his blue-striped, pressed-to-perfection uniform…

Ah, Sky.

His tall, lanky frame had its perks. In their current task of gem-gathering over the lot, he had to bend over quite far to collect the glittering stones that littered the ground. Sometimes he squatted down if there was a particularly large cluster of them in one area to pick up. Either way, the view was great.

But what really captivated her, even more so than his tight behind, were his hands. She watched them every time he came over to deposit another handful of diamonds on their conical pile. His fingers were long and slender, unusually elegant for a man, she thought. They were good for catching a Lightball, for squeezing the trigger on their blasters, for bandaging her hypothetical sprained ankle in a first-aid seminar. She imagined they would also be good for massages, for handholding in the rain, for lovemaking in the dark if he ever decided he had an interest in such things.

Was it strange that she was so interested in a man's hands? She didn't think so, not when her own had an utterly unique property, a gift no one else on the planet and maybe in the universe had. She could turn her hands into any element she touched. Often the element she chose was hard and unyielding: iron or stone or a potent alloy, because she used her power always in a combative capacity. And because her chameleon hands were such choice weapons, she took very good care of them. She cleansed them often, and moisturized them, bought expensive creams to make them soft, and decorated them with nail polish and little doodles from her gel-ink pens.

Perhaps also not surprisingly, she was a bit of a tactile soul. She liked cuddles and rubs, hugs and affectionate petting. Too bad her current love interest didn't care for demonstrations, especially when he had the perfect hands for them (among other parts!). Luckily for her, she also enjoyed a good old-fashioned brawl sometimes. That was more to her interest's tune.

She watched Sky deposit his last batch of diamonds onto the pile and then go over to his patrol cycle to retrieve a water bottle. The streamlined design of their uniform made him all limbs, and he moved with an easy grace that was inversely proportional to his awareness of it.

"This is ridiculous. _I_ should be debriefing Cruger, not babysitting a bunch of reflective rocks."

What people didn't seem to notice about Sky was that he whined, quite often actually. They never noticed because he was so good at masquerading it as self-righteousness.

"Try millions of dollars worth of reflective rocks."

He wasn't as impressed by shiny, expensive things. "Whatever. It's obvious Jack wants to keep me as far away from the action as possible. He feels threatened by me, knows that I should've been the Red Ranger."

Oh no, honey, don't arch your eyebrows like that again. It makes you look like a—what was it Bridge said once? A Northern hawk owl.

"Come on, Sky. Jack had nothing to do with that."

He did exactly what a Northern hawk owl did; he glared at you from way up high.

"Whatever, Syd."

She watched for a moment him curling those erotic fingers around a suggestively shaped bottle. She watched his lips nurse the spout. He sat on a crate, all angles with those long limbs of his. His back very straight. Very erect, like how some women preferred their men…

She chucked a diamond at him. It bounced off his chest and landed between his legs. That got him to put down the damn water bottle.

"Knock it off." He picked up the gem and tossed it back onto the pile.

_Oooh_. "Or what?" She lobbed another gem. It hit his upper arm this time. "Gonna call my parents?"

Now he looked at her. "Seriously. Don't test me, or you'll be sorry."

_Make me sorry, gorgeous._

She hit him with a third gem. He got up. He moved with the speed and purpose of a hunting jungle cat. He stalked up to her as she smirked and…

_Splash._

What a bastard. Now her scalp was cold, and her uniform—top half—was wet. And what was the dunking worth but this: a grinning, giggling, giant goofball who was hardly…well, okay, who was still cute. But it wasn't hard to glare at him bitingly, so long as the sex god vibe was broken.

"It took me looking like this to get a smile out of you?"

That shut him up. Good.

He cleared his throat, as if he were embarrassed to be caught laughing, and turned away. "Very funny."

Actually, what was funny was that some of the water he'd dumped over her head had somehow gotten on his crotch. Now it looked like—well, maybe it would be better if she didn't look there.

He went back to his crate, and she followed. "No, it looks good on you!" Not that that was very hard to do "You know, if you'd spend a little more time with the team and not be such a loner—"

Fingers tucked into a fist surrounded by a blue corona as he put up a forcefield between them. She wasn't going to get anything out of him but a view after this point. She left him alone, turned around and went back to her diamonds. But that didn't mean she missed his arch gaze meander to her backside. Uh huh. She ought to take him down and maul him for that, not a bad idea if the feeling was mutual.

His hands were toying idly with the water bottle again. Was there a reason guys always sat with their hands in the vicinity of their crotch? They never rested them on their knees, or at their sides, or on the outward face of the leg. They always had their hands resting in the space in between, as if the family jewels were in constant peril whenever they lounged. Maybe it was a survival instinct. In any case, it was another situation in which two good things were in the same place…

Diamonds. Focus on the diamonds. There was no better place to be than in the company of two of her favorite things in the whole wide world. Right in front of her, a voluminous pile of brilliantly sparkling diamonds. And to her left…

"_One man to guard all these diamonds?"_

It wasn't at all about the diamonds. It had _never_ been about the diamonds.

- -

**Author's Comment**_: This was an experiment in writing style, with a bit of a scramble to find a decent ending. I think I'm getting the hang of this drabble business! Hope ya'll enjoy!  
_


	3. Album

**Disclaimer**: _Non-profit but very therapeutic. Anyone know how I can apply for the rights to write SPD books? I remember MMPR books a long time ago…_

**Author's Note**: _Enjoy :)_

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**Album**

For the twelfth consecutive week, _Dependence_ was number one on the Billboard charts. The song had rocketed to the coveted spot upon its debut, and the album it later became a part of, her sophomore effort in an on-again-off-again music career, was still flying off the shelves, already one of the best-selling compilations of the year. Loyal Sydney Drew fans had seized a copy the very day it was released, impatient after a three year wait for new material from their favorite idol, but as the songs began broadcasting on the radio, the surprising depth and maturity of her new music drew in a bigger audience in masses. She truly was more popular than ever.

The reason for the growth in her musical artistry was simple—tragedy.

It had happened three months after the defeat of Grumm and the Troobian Empire. She and the other Rangers were raiding the headquarters of a Saurian crime ring, but somehow the Saurians had gotten word of their plans and set up a trap for them. She, Bridge, and Z got out after the first explosion went off. That was because they were assigned to raid the lower floors. Sky was entering from the roof in hopes of catching the ring leader in his offices on the upper level.

He was still up there when the second to fifth explosions went off simultaneously, and the building collapsed in on itself.

For hours they combed through the rubble, and even with twenty search-and-rescuers and Bridge's keen tracking senses, they didn't find Sky until eight hours later.

He was alive, but barely so. He made it to the hospital and then there he lay for over a month, every moment of which she and the other Rangers feared he would never wake up again. The doctors were giving him slim chances of ever emerging from his coma.

It was in Sky's hospital room that she wrote her entire new album. After a week of nightly visits and endless tears, she took to singing to him softly, a weak hope in her heart that she could coax him to return to the waking world. Two songs on her new album were about those visits, and the ever-dimming hope that she refused to let die.

She started bringing a notebook with her to his room, and there at his bedside, she sat composing, shrouded in near-unmanageable emotions at times and the thin, elongated shadows cast by moonlight through a dusty window.

Many of the songs on her new CD were tinged by sadness, by longing, by all the things she'd felt during those dark hours. But _Dependence _was different. _Dependence_ was a story of their lives, a somewhat frantically woven lyrical tapestry of happier memories she have striven to remember, and which she sang to him as he lay still and silent beside her.

_It was like you saw me but you didn't care  
How could you leave me just standing here?  
You didn't want it but I broke through your walls  
The real you wasn't so bad after all_

That song had been so hard to write, not because she couldn't think of lyrics or a tune, but because the memories made her grief so much more acute that she had to stop. After a while she just let the tears blur her vision until she was writing blindly, and she could only hope her writing would be legible later.

_You caught me fast when my hands slipped  
Followed by a meaner quip  
I was proud and so were you  
But by and by we made it through_

_To friends and maybe something more  
If you're the one I'm waiting for  
Are you my one last dream come true?  
Baby we'd make something beautiful_

Bridge, Z and Jack didn't think it was healthy for her to spend virtually every free moment at the hospital, much as they cared about Sky too. They wanted her to take some time out for herself, and encouraged her to start recording some of the songs she had written. Making the music would be therapeutic, and the work itself would take her mind off her heartache. So, with a leave of absence from SPD, she headed into the recording studio.

The record execs were pleased to have her return, and after looking over her new material, decided they wanted to record and release _Dependence _first. They were sure it would be a hit. She thought they were after the money, which wouldn't be unusual. She didn't realize that when she wasn't around, everyone would talk and wonder what had become of the Sydney Drew they knew from years before, the one who cared about nothing but being glamorous, popular, and sang songs all about herself. The Sydney they saw now was subdued, a lot more mature, and carried a raw sadness that would undoubtedly show in the music.

In true Sydney Drew fashion, the song was perfected in a record three studio sessions—albeit very long ones—and she had a quick photo shoot for the cover art of the CD. The single was released to the airwaves and was an instant hit. But Sydney gave no interviews and made no appearances. Instead, she made her way to room 802 of Newtech General to share her success with the inspiration behind it.

She played the CD for Sky as she sang softly along, stroking his hair.

_Remember the days when things were easy  
And we could stand on our own  
Remember the ways we'd joke and play  
Never leaving each other alone  
But things changed like seasons pass  
And I knew it'd come to this  
If I lose you I would fall  
This is dependence_

Her voice faded sweetly away as the music bled into a haunting instrumental bit, and it was with her tears dribbling down her face and the trill of a violin that he opened his eyes at last.

He seemed a little disorientated at first, and then those beautiful green eyes came to rest on her as he reached to touch her cheek. The tear he wiped away was only replaced by several more.

On her next visit to the recording studio, Sydney positively glowed. She worked with whirlwind energy to finish her album, which now included an upbeat, schmaltzy number at the end about the joys of finding love. She spent a good deal of time writing and rewriting the personal message she would put inside the cover booklet, and when the record finally hit the stores, this was what her fans would find inside:

_I dedicate this album to my wonderful friends, Bridge, Jack, and Z; and to my loving fiancé, Sky._

_Bridge—your never-ending good humor, empathy, and bright spirit were like beacons in a dark time. I can't express how grateful I am for how well you took care of me in a difficult period. Only you would give me a towel warmer as a comfort device and hope its sheer distraction value would make me forget my sadness for a while. It worked._

_Jack—you were a shoulder I could cry on at any time and about anything. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for letting me interrupt your days and for listening to my pain when I knew you had your own to deal with. You truly are a prince among men. _

_Z—where would I be if it weren't for you beating some sense into my despairing, illogical head when I needed it? You held me up with your unfailing and amazing strength, and helped me along the way to remember my own. I can't say thank you enough, but maybe I can start by not leaving my stuff all over the bathroom._

_In the beginning of this message, I thanked God for giving me the inspiration for this album in the form of a six-foot, sometimes surly, sometimes sweet, but always loving man. But now I have to thank Him for not taking that inspiration away from me._

_Sky—I love you, baby, with all my heart, mind, and soul. Don't be so reckless next time!_

_  
-- Sydney Drew --_


	4. Green Eyed Monster

**Disclaimer**: _Wow. Just about nothing in this scene belongs to me. That's new. Usually at least a chair or something…_

**Author's Note**: _A look at a moment in "Recognition". I'm releasing this because I actually drabbled! It might not be a very good drabble, but it's a drabble, i.e. it didn't eat up my entire evening. In fact, I wrote it during the break in class. ;-)_

- -

**Green Eyed Monster**

"_Do you think I'm beautiful? I think I'm—_"

A sudden menacing presence behind her stopped her crooning and made Syd turn around with a start. But it was just Sky.

"Do you mind?" she yelped, a little indignant, a little embarrassed, and inexplicably creeped out. Sky's hair was as unkempt as if he'd just been through the mud course, but of course he hadn't. The rest of him was clean. His eyes…

"Get out of my room!"

The way he smirked made her skin crawl. He kept staring at her, a touch of something unnatural in those pale green orbs. For one very surreal moment she was actually afraid he might come closer.

"_Now!_"

What was wrong with him? Or maybe it was her. It was just Sky. Her teammate. Her crush. Her best friend.

With that sickening smirk that wouldn't die, he finally turned away and left without a word. She took a half step back when he first began to move, and then she stared after his retreating back.

What had just happened? Syd was confused. She waited a full minute or two to make sure Sky would be gone and then did the only thing she could think of. She went looking for Z.


	5. Worst Case Scenario

**Disclaimer**: _If all Wuzzles are Weezles, and all Weezles are not Muzzles…eh, SPD still isn't mine._

**Author's Note**: _Back to my drabble-challenged ways. This is a sequel to 'Dependence', so take a look at that if you haven't already.  
_

- -

**Worst-Case Scenario**

She had once considered becoming an interior designer. Being something of a fashionista back during her days in the celebrity limelight, she'd figured picking textiles for drapes and colors for walls couldn't be so different from doing the same for clothing.

For example, she would have done the walls of this waiting room in a tasteful amber shade, something earthy and warm and not overwhelmingly cheerful. She'd add plants and a touch of feng shui to improve the overall arrangement and energy. There should be less decrepit toys in the corner, ones that didn't look like they had been around since her grandmother's generation. And there definitely needed to be some gossip magazines on the coffee table to take people's minds off their own troubles.

Unfortunately, the way the waiting room was now, everything was white, in that awful hollow way it always appeared beneath fluorescent lights. She didn't want white because it reminded her of everything about the 'place after'. Angels' clouds, God's robes, pearly gates, and the great white light. Everything she didn't want to think of as she sat there in tense silence.

Sky's mom and sister were present as well, but no one felt like talking. His mother was trying to read a science journal she held in shaking hands, and his sister was catnapping in the corner of the couches. Sydney was spacing, lost in memories of one of her closest friends. She remembered the battle that had indirectly caused this excruciating wait, the one that had stolen Sky's sight but had also been the catalyst for the two of them to step beyond the boundary of friendship.

Not that they had stepped very far. All they'd really done was acknowledge their mutual feelings for each other. There wasn't much time to deal with that, not when other, more pressing matters were at hand, like the possibility of restoring Sky's vision. That's what the doctors were trying to do in there, right through those grey double doors.

Maybe she should do a light purple color for the walls. She'd never seen anything purple in a hospital before. People in here didn't need to be reminded that they were in a hospital, awaiting potentially the most important news of their life. A change of environment was what she really needed right now, but leaving was out of the question.

Sydney wasn't sure what kind of time the clock on the wall was measuring when it told her only two hours had passed; eight or nine hours would have been more believable. But two was what the clock reported when the doctor finally emerged from the double doors, wearing an expression so apologetic it could only mean one thing. All three occupants of the waiting room turned as white as the walls.

"I'm very sorry," the doctor said in a low voice. His hands were jammed deep in the pockets of his white coat and he couldn't quite meet their eyes. "I'm afraid Schuyler didn't make it."

Sydney stared at the man who had just confirmed her worst fear. Her insides seemed to liquefy, losing all strength and semblance of integrity as she slumped to the floor. Her blue eyes blurred with tears, and she gripped the nearest thing at hand—a corner of the coffee table—until her knuckles went white. It was her solitary anchor, a physical force to keep the black well of emotion inside her from swelling and consuming her whole.

Distantly she heard some thumbed down medical jargon, the doctor saying something about complications, unique brain chemistry, and…organ donation? Oh God…

It was merciless how quickly her mind was able to grasp the full meaning of the doctor's words, and then the waiting room was filled with her bereft howl.

**x-x-x-x-x**

That dream had literally driven Sydney out of bed and straight towards the Medical Center at six o'clock that morning. She hadn't actually gotten permission to be away from the Academy, but the bone-deep fear she felt said that nothing was more important than being with Sky before he went into the operating room.

Now they sat together quietly in his room on the ward, his right hand intertwined with her left in a gesture as still as they were. To the unfamiliar observer, the connection might have been innocent, a silent lending of support and comfort as he sat in the hospital bed and she held vigil in the hard-backed, yellow plastic chair beside it. Or it might have been something more intimate, if one carefully observed the way their fingers curled around each other so comfortably, like the embrace of sweethearts or the afterglow of lovers. It was the only source of contact between them, and certainly an observer wouldn't know what it was indicative of if the two didn't know themselves. All that mattered was that it felt right.

"What time is it?" Sky asked after what seemed like an eternal silence.

"Twelve till," Sydney answered.

Her left hand was bent oddly to avoid touching the plastic bracelet around his wrist, the one that bore his name in tiny black print. The one to identify him in the event that he was unable to do it for himself.

"Are you scared now?" she asked when Sky didn't answer.

"No," he said automatically.

Of course not. Sky Tate didn't get scared. His current expression betrayed nothing to her, but she remembered those first few days when decipherable emotions had become almost the norm to see in his clear green eyes. It seemed like he'd clammed up again, at the worst possible time.

"Are you sure?" she prodded, and when he merely frowned, she added softly, "Well, I am."

"Of what?"

"Of…" Could she say it? One sweep of her cornflower blue eyes took in the made-for-daytime-soap-opera scene around her: the pale blue walls; the thin, spotted hospital gown; the non-allergenic acrylic blanket; the IV line attached to his left hand. The spectacular view out the window that he couldn't enjoy anyway.

Her devastating dream.

"I'm afraid of something going wrong."

"The odds of that are small," he said rationally, paraphrasing what the doctor had told them. It wasn't very reassuring to her. "Practically nonexistent."

"But still there." The growing constriction in her throat was a testament to the feelings she harbored for the man beside her, feelings that weren't really a secret, but that she'd never acted upon until that fateful battle four weeks ago.

When Sky had lost his vision, she had insisted on being his eyes, and that had involved a lot of contact and mutual trust. They knew they liked each other, but it just wasn't the time to do anything about it. He'd spent only one week at the Academy. Then he'd been sent to a specialist in New Orleans, and one in Denver. It had taken two weeks for these so-called experts to pronounce that there was nothing wrong with Sky's eyes.

There was something wrong with his brain.

Now he was in the Medical Center at UCSF, awaiting surgery that would hopefully restore his sight. Neurosurgery. In ten minutes, a team of medical staff was going to take him away so that some doctor could cut open his head.

The thought never failed to make Sydney shiver. She didn't care that the doctor operating on him was one of the top neurosurgeons in the country, or about the 94 per cent success rate. She didn't care that she was three hours away from New Tech and the Academy, potentially putting the city and the planet at risk should an attack occur that she couldn't get to fast enough.

All that mattered was that other 6 per cent, the sliver of chance that threatened to take Sky away forever, and make her nightmare come true. The doctor had told them not to worry about it too much. Probability was overwhelmingly in Sky's favor, and really, they faced much worse odds as Rangers every time they ran out into a battle. But the difference there was, Sydney ran out with her team to share those odds, even helping to improve them with her skill and perseverance.

"Syd." Sky's voice soothed her only marginally. "I'm going to be fine."

"If these last four weeks were your hell, then this is mine," she informed him, and felt his hand tighten around hers.

"I thought I was the pity case here."

"You were." Her reply was uncharacteristically acerbic. "Four weeks ago. Don't you think—"

She cut off abruptly, shame twisting in her stomach at her selfishness. She'd nearly said that this was probably easier for him than it was for her. His lack of concern for his own life was angering her, or more specifically, his lack of concern for what his life meant to her.

"Do my feelings mean anything to you at all?" she demanded, blue eyes dark like a storm. "Here I am, scared to death that something might go wrong in there, and all you can do is make fun of me."

Sky sighed. "What do you propose I do, Syd? Call it off? I don't intend to spend the rest of my life blind."

"I didn't mean you should call it off. I just meant—I mean, I wanted—" Tears were prickling in her eyes from her mounting frustration, and from the clock announcing that they only had six minutes left together.

"C'mere." Sky held his other arm towards her in a gesture they'd both become familiar with. She hesitated a moment before gingerly climbing over the bed railing to sit in his lap, being extra careful not to disturb the IV line.

She leaned against him and closed her eyes, finally able to let some of her pent-up emotions drain away. It was almost therapeutic, sitting there and feeling his solid, steady presence and warm embrace. It countered the frightening memory of her dream and made it seem like only that—a dream. Her imagination had run away with her; that's what had happened. It was prone to playing the what-if game whenever the heart was involved. Sky would be okay. He had to be.

He held her in silence until the clock struck the hour, and the doctor came in, clearing his throat none too discreetly. Sydney flushed a dark pink and scrambled off Sky's lap, while Sky merely smirked. He didn't seem to embarrass anymore; he'd said it had something to do with not being able to see people's reactions.

Sydney stepped back as a medical team came in with a gurney and helped Sky onto it. Starched white pillow, sterile white sheets, and gleaming silver railing. A little shelf for devices she didn't want to think about. She glanced up at the doctor.

"How long will the surgery take?" Her voice was strangely hollow.

"Anywhere from one to four hours," the man answered. He waited patiently to see if she had any more questions, but at her wordless nod, he inclined his head and left with the medical team. Sydney followed a moment later to the doorway, leaning against the jamb as she watched them wheel Sky away into an elevator and an uncertain future.


	6. Reaction

**Disclaimer**: _Power Rangers SPD is not my property. The bits about how the Power works were inspired by _ A Public Dissertation_, a highly intriguing piece that details one writer's theory on what a Power Ranger is. I read it a while ago and it seems the ideas contained therein have stayed with me._

**Author's Note**: _This story is told from Sky's perspective, and is also a prequel to 'Dependence'. I'm milking that story for all its worth. :)_

- -

**Reaction **

Most people can't see past the spandex. The bright, primary colors and the team poses—which yes, we do have to learn—draw a lot of comments, particularly taunting from our adversaries. But that's what we want; the design is as much a distraction as it is a tradition. These criminals know who we are, or at least they know the reputations of our predecessors. Some start running the moment we arrive to take them in. Others take time to jeer at and goad us. Both of these losses in focus work in our favor.

The suits aren't actually spandex, of course. They're an organometallic-energy fusion, created in a laboratory and able to function like a second skin as well as a detached barrier whenever we wear them. In our morphed state, they are literally a part of us. The surface feels like ordinary Lycra to the touch, but if you strike it, it's like smashing your hand against stone.

I did that once, when I was five. My dad said something that made me mad and I swung at him, mostly because I thought he wouldn't feel it while in his suit. That turned out to be only a half-truth. He felt it all right, but not nearly as much as I did. For my lack of discipline, I received a sprained finger, a sound lecture, and a week of no TV. That was the day I learned about the substance behind the innocuous-looking uniform.

Skill. Bravery. Honor. The desire to face trouble head-on.

I also decided my dad was like Superman. He became my living hero. Until he died.

There's absolutely no certainty in being a Power Ranger. Sometimes the situation turns out pretty mild, and we're called in only because of its potential to escalate into something more serious. An easy job is one classified as requiring only handcuffs. Most of the time we have to break out the other gear: the suits, the specialized weaponry, the battle vehicles, large or small. We have to be ready for anything, and in the worst of situations—which is different for every Ranger—we have to be ready to give up everything for the cause.

The outcome of any battle is determined by the decisions we make during it. Most are pure reflex, an instantaneous reaction. How to strike, what to save, when to squeeze the trigger. We can't just run out with all the force we've got because though our powers are arguably unlimited, our endurance is not. We have to maintain a certain amount of strength to keep our morph intact, and the more power we use, the stronger we have to be.

On one fateful assignment, we were dealing with a criminal who had somehow gotten his hands on a class D nuclear firearm. Its primary function was to shoot high-impact, high-energy blasts, but a side effect of the type of energy it emitted was something akin to low level radiation poisoning. Unprotected civilians in a one-block radius were falling sick to varying degrees whenever the weapon was fired, so our first priority was to clear the area. We had to isolate our target ASAP.

Our suits protected us from the effects of the energy, but the blast itself still packed a punch. It wasn't long into the battle before a bunch of Troobians predictably showed up, and so the team got a bit separated in the fight. I saw that no-good terrorizer lowering his weapon at Syd's turned back, and I didn't think. I just ran. I reacted.

Ranger suits are designed to absorb an enormous amount of impact, in the event that we have to play human shield for some hapless citizen. Or as in that case, a fellow team member. We were both knocked into a wall ten feet behind us with brutal force, though my uniform had borne the brunt of the attack. She grunted as she was momentarily pinned between me and wall before we fell to the ground. She seemed stunned but unhurt. I, however, had had the wind knocked out of me entirely. It felt like someone had punched me in the lungs without my suit on, and I was disorientated enough for my morph to break.

Instantly Syd was trying to shield me with her body, probably from further attack and the energy particles that were no doubt zipping through the air. I saw the villain leveling his weapon at us again, and I had no intention of getting sick, so I did the only thing I could think of, the thing I could only do in civilian form. I put up a forcefield. I made it as big as I could manage so as to give Syd some cover while also protecting myself as much as possible from the energy particles. I was going to need at least another minute before I could gather enough strength to morph again.

The bastard wasn't going to wait until I felt better. He squeezed off another shot almost immediately, but not before Jack and the others could interfere. The blast went wide, hitting the upper rim of my forcefield and no where near Syd and I.

At least, that was the last thing I saw. I can't be sure what happened because the world suddenly flashed a brilliant white and it felt like my head had exploded. Very dimly I could hear Syd calling my name, but the world went from white to pitch black in an instant, and my awareness of her and everything else around me just blinked out.

- -

**Author's Comments**: _I believe this is the first story in this set to be told from Sky's POV rather than Syd's. That is because I find Sky's voice notoriously hard to characterize. I'd like to know what people thought of this tentative peek inside his head._


	7. Pride

**Disclaimer**: _Non-profit strategy for procrastinating._

**Author's Note**: _This fic was inspired by the slight flicker in Sky's eyes after Jack said Syd was in trouble in 'SWAT II'. There are references to that episode, as this fic takes place after its events, or possibly before that last scene in the commons room. Can you tell I'm a stickler for detail?_

- - -

**Pride**

"I lied today."

"About what?"

"My worst nightmare isn't being demoted to D squad."

"What is it then?"

"…though being demoted to D squad was pretty heinous."

"Sky?"

"My worst nightmare is letting the team down."

"You would never do that, Sky."

"Not intentionally."

"You can't let us down unintentionally. Your best is all you can do, and it's usually more than enough."

"Just thought I'd tell you the truth."

"Why the sudden honesty?"

"I was just thinking of what happened on Zentor, when all of us thought we heard someone else calling for help. I thought it was Bridge, but Jack said it was you. And then you came running up."

"What about it?"

"I was afraid."

"You?"

"For a second. I was…relieved to see you were safe."

"That's sweet. But I can take care of myself."

"I know. It's just, someone told me once that being the best means looking out for the rest of you. It made sense."

"I think we all have to do that. Look out for each other, I mean."

"Yeah."

"Sky?"

"What?"

"Were you lying when you said you wouldn't call for help?"

"…no."

"_Yes_."

"I didn't say I wouldn't. I said I don't."

"Don't you think we have the same fears as you?"

"I—"

"Promise me that if you're in trouble, you'll call for help."

"I promise."

"That was too quick. I don't believe you."

"You want me to swear on a Bible?"

"Will it work?"

"I promise, Syd."

"You promise what?"

"I promise that if I'm in trouble, I'll call for help."

"Good."

"Note to self: don't get in trouble."

"Sky!"

"What?"

"Would it be so bad to have to rely on the rest of us once in a while?"

"Of course not. But I'm supposed to be able to hold my own in battle."

"And I thought teamwork was the lesson of the day."

"You know what I mean, Syd."

"Lucky for you. I thought you'd outgrown your proud jerk phase."

"…"

"I'm sorry. That was a little harsh."

"No, you're probably right."

"Probably."

"Do you really think I'm a proud jerk?"

"Sometimes."

"Oh."

"Sky?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go get some dessert?"

"Sure."


	8. Yield

**Disclaimer**: _I do not hold any stock in Disney and therefore do not own even the slightest portion of PR:SPD. I do not own the carnival rides either. _

**Author's Note**: _This takes place pre-canon, when Syd and Bridge were first promoted to B squad. Sky had already been a B level cadet for a year. _

- -

**Yield **

He and Sydney were the first people in line for the next revolution of the _Scrambler_, so as soon as the attendant opened the gate, the petite blonde surged forward, running for a car in the back and pulling him along by the hand. She seemed awfully enthusiastic about a rickety old carnival ride that looked like it should have been retired years ago. All of these rides looked like they were breaking some sort of safety regulation, actually. He was surprised traveling carnivals like this one had managed to survive for so long, and were still popular as ever, apparently, judging from the size of the attending crowd.

Sydney and Bridge, the newly minted B squad members assigned under his wing, had dragged him out here on a Saturday like two hyperactive children just released from school, and though he generally liked his new teammates, the only reason he let himself be bullied into this outing was because the commander had subtly hinted that he wanted the three of them to do a bit of bonding as a team. He had had team-building exercises in mind, but the vote for the carnival ended up two to one, so now he was just going to have to suffer through a day of silly rides, squalling revelers, and really bad food.

They forced him onto the carousel first thing, despite the fact that even the biggest horse on there just wasn't enough for someone of his stature. Sydney found a bejeweled number with a pink mane on which to relive her childhood memories, and Bridge selected himself a reindeer. Sky would have been content to sit in the sled on the outer edge and put his feet up for the ten or so revolutions the ride went through, but Sydney was adamant he sit on one of the horses. Heaven forbid he try to put his feet in the stirrups lest he give himself a black eye with his own knees.

After a tame start on the carousel, being the adrenaline junkies they were, they went on a few rides with a little more zing: the Ring of Fire, the Kamikaze, and the Gravitron. The Ring of Fire had an alarmingly decrepit construction; the most exciting thing about the Kamikaze was its name; and the Gravitron gave him a slight headache, not that he would ever tell.

After all that, Bridge needed his fix of butter, carb, sugar, or any combination of the three, and went in search of appropriate snacks. Sydney wanted to go on the Scrambler while the line was relatively short, so she pulled him in that direction while Bridge promised to bring back food for them.

Now he and Sydney sat in their car, waiting for the ride to start. She was bouncing with excitement beside him while he wondered why he'd yielded to their pestering. He didn't like carnivals. He didn't like crowds. He liked order and calm. He liked whatever he was doing with his time to be meaningful.

He tried to remind himself this excursion wasn't completely without purpose. It was a chance to get to know his new teammates better, even if in an unofficial capacity. Sydney and Bridge probably already considered him a friend, but he guarded the term a little more carefully, as it was a rare individual that truly understood him and his ambitions. It was too early to tell, but he thought that maybe Sydney and Bridge could be among those individuals. They could make a pretty good team yet.

The ride started to move, and Sydney looked over at him with a smile of pure jubilance. She was pretty, he found himself thinking, and then reproached himself for the thought. Of course she was pretty. She was a former model, pop singer, and had walked in circles of celebrity glamour before coming to SPD. Looks and image would be a way of life for her.

The ride began picking up speed, and the centrifugal force slid Sydney over in the seat and pressed her against his side. She did nothing to remedy this, and instead flung her arms up in the air with childlike glee. He wasn't nearly that frivolous, but…he couldn't say he didn't like having her sit that close to him either.

Hmm. Therein lay her persuasive power, didn't it? What guy could say no to a girl who was cute and aggressive and didn't take no for an answer anyway? He had a sneaking feeling this carnival wouldn't be the last thing he'd be talked into by the effervescent Ms. Drew.


	9. Routine

**Disclaimer**: _Waiting for the rights to SPD to free up…or permission to start writing series books for sale. Hey, Star Wars and Star Trek have 'em. _

**Pseudo-summary:**_ Just another morning in the SPD Academy…_

- -

**Routine **

He had a new pair of running shoes to break in, and a five-mile jog would do just the trick. Not that he needed an excuse to go on a five-mile jog, which had been his morning routine every day since high school track. Just in case though, he left his old shoes on the bottommost of the bleachers. There was no sense in wasting time running up to his room to get them if his feet started hurting and he needed to finish his jog. If he had to do that, he would just stay and finish his exercise, blisters and all. But that didn't make much sense either, not when he could just bring his old shoes down with him to the track.

Of course, he could always just count the jog up to his room and back down as part of his five miles, with the added bonus of a couple of flights of stairs in his workout.

The more Sky thought about it, the more he couldn't distinguish if this was a case of too many situations, or too many solutions. Situations: new shoes to break in, jog to finish, blisters to avoid. Solutions: bring old shoes down, run up to the room to change shoes, keep running in new shoes despite discomfort.

If he didn't have the new shoes, he wouldn't have to consider all of the above. He would pull his already broken-in shoes on, come down to the track, and complete his jog. No worrying about his new shoes getting uncomfortable, about remembering to bring his old shoes with him, or figuring out what fraction of a mile lay between the training field and his dorm room.

This was why he didn't like change. It broke up a perfectly functional MO. Though the MO wasn't perfectly functional anymore because his old running shoes were wearing thin on the soles…

Sky sped up his pace, so that his harsher breathing and quicker heartbeat would distract him from his almost Bridge-like thoughts (ugh), and force him to focus on his rhythm. He had about a mile left to go and his shoes were still feeling pretty good—a little tight, but very shock absorbent. Perfect.

Despite his best efforts and a steady routine, his mind wandered. It started with an innocent thought: what did he want for breakfast later? Sometimes breakfast got interesting when Jack, his antithesis even in dietary habits, was present and asked the identity of every item on his tray, just so he could make a face and proclaim it some relative of sawdust.

This morning, he was thinking of wheatgrass, because Syd had read an entire article about the benefits of wheatgrass to him from one of her female-orientated magazines. He didn't care for anything that came out of one of those magazines—none of it applied to him anyway—but something about Syd made the article easier to bear. Her lower lip stuck out in a bow-mouthed pout whenever he expressed obvious boredom, but she'd read on determinedly.

Syd meant well, and he had learned—was still learning sometimes—that that was all that mattered. She worked hard, she cared about their work, and she was bafflingly cheerful. Plucky...that was a good word for her. Plucky didn't explain though why he tolerated her easier than his other teammates, or why he liked sitting next to her, or why he had sat through an article that fed women's obsessions about whether or not they looked fat.

He finished his run, then took a shower. He usually ended up taking at least two showers a day because of his morning workout. It wasn't because he was afraid of being a little mussed, nothing like that. It worked in his favor—Syd had commented once that he smelled kind of nice, for a guy. That made Sky wonder why guys were automatically exempted from good hygiene in her mind. Girls.

Jack wasn't present at breakfast, but Syd was. Z was present, but Bridge wasn't. He could pretty much count then on a harassment-free morning...save for whatever the girls felt like dishing out.

"Good morning!" chirped Syd as he entered the common room, with a cute smile that showed off the rosy apples of her cheeks. Z echoed her right after, unusually chipper for the early hour.

"Hey." He went to the food regenerator to conjure up his breakfast. He considered trying this wheatgrass he'd learned about, but what if he didn't like it? Best to stick with what worked, since it was a work day. He needed his strength today. He had wheat toast (since Bridge wasn't around to excite with it) for fiber, eggs for protein, plenty of fruit, and a standard, nameless drink that was consumed for nutrition and not for flavor.

Syd moved over one chair at the tiny table built into the wall, and he took that to mean he was supposed to sit there. He took his seat, and before he could pick up his fork, Syd slid a tall ceramic mug towards him.

"Try this," she said.

He glanced inside the mug. Whatever was in it was the same color as his nameless drink. "What is it?"

"A wheatgrass shake," she replied. And then she went into a summarized version of wheatgrass's benefits, all of which he found he'd retained from Syd's article.

He picked up the mug and took a tentative sip. It tasted awful. Both Syd and Z were looking at him expectantly.

"Not bad," he said, sliding the mug back towards Syd.

"See? I told you he'd like it," Syd said to Z. "He likes this sort of stuff."

And then to him, she said, "Here, you can have it. Both Z and I think it tastes terrible."

Perfect. He rolled his eyes. "I'm not your garbage disposable, Syd," and slid the mug back towards her.

"It's not garbage," she protested. "It's good for you."

"So why don't you drink it?"

"Because I don't like it."

"Then why did you order it?"

She was starting to get exasperated. "I just wanted to try it, Sky."

"And now it's going to waste."

Now Syd rolled her eyes. "Please. Like you've never wasted anything finding these tasteless, unpalatable confections you always have."

He didn't answer. He just picked up his fork and took a bite of the breakfast that had been neglected for two whole minutes.

"Uh huh. That's what I thought."

He didn't mind letting Syd have her supposed victory. Z peered into his glass curiously.

"What is yours? I swear the two are identical."

"In flavor, at least," Syd put in dryly.

Sky ignored her. "It's a nutrient drink," he answered. "It has a balance of all the vitamins and minerals you'll need in a day."

"Sounds delish." Z sounded more amused than sarcastic this time.

"Is sawdust something you need everyday?"

Jack had arrived. And right beside him was Bridge, jacket unzipped and hair untamed. Sky shook his head at Jack's comment and proceeded to ignore the two newcomers.

"Sky, you don't have any butter for your toast," said Bridge.

"Bridge, I don't eat butter with my toast. Normally," he hastily added, to hopefully alleviate the earnest tirade that would surely follow such an outrageous answer. He never ate butter, not unless it was already cooked into something and hence beyond his control.

"Here you go, man." Jack set a steaming mug in front of him of something he could identify by smell alone. Hot chocolate. Beside him, Syd let out a noise of delight.

"No thanks," he ground out as civilly as he could. Right before a dish of butter was placed beside the mug. The only option he had was to ignore it all and concentrate on his breakfast.

"It'll do you good," Jack insisted. "See, I figured maybe you're as sour as you are because you don't get enough things to eat with actual flavor. I would know about that, wouldn't I, Z?"

"Flavor _is_ a luxury," said Z, and Sky couldn't decide if she was agreeing with Jack, or if what she said worked in his favor. If good-tasting things were available, people ate it. If not, people subsisted on what they had. He didn't purposely avoid sweets and other foods people considered treats. His health-conscious diet worked, he liked it, and that was all there was to it.

Apparently his friends weren't as satisfied by this, as one by one, his breakfast items were taken away by four sets of hands. By now, though, he knew that they were bothering him simply to annoy him.

"I'll give you five bucks to drink that, Sky," said Z.

She would lose five hard-earned dollars, and he would be majorly irritated. It was a lose-lose situation.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'll give you ten," said Syd.

"You think that's going to convince me?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "I know you have that 'my body is a temple' philosophy going on—"

"So do you," he said pointedly.

"Yes, but your temple must be Mormon or something."

That got a few chitters out of the others.

"Did you guys conspire to gang up on me this morning?" he asked in annoyance.

"Nah," said Jack. "It's just so easy to do. You set yourself up for it."

"How?" he demanded. "I'm here, minding my own business—"

"Sky." Syd placed a soft hand on his knee. Actually, it was a little higher up than his knee.

"I'm sure your temple will be just as good, if not better, with chocolate."

That set his other teammates off again, and even he wasn't dense enough to miss a decidedly lascivious come-on. His face reddened a little, embarrassed that Syd would flirt with him so openly, in front of other people. At least the others couldn't see her hand lightly stroking not-quite-his-knee beneath the table.

Time to save a little face. He plucked the straws from his nameless drink and the wheatgrass shake and stuck them in the mug of hot chocolate. Then he lifted it up and held it between them.

"If that's the case," he said, as neutrally as he could manage.

"Gladly." She didn't even have to wait for him to finish. They leaned down and sipped the drink from opposite straws, ignoring the hoots and other appreciative noises from their teammates. The hot chocolate burned his tongue, and he guessed it did Syd's too, since they both pulled away rather quickly.

"Hot," he muttered.

"Very," she agreed.

(That come-on he did miss.)

Bridge and Jack went and pursued their own breakfasts, and he and Syd were able to cease being the breakfast spectacle. Syd spooned off some of the whipped cream on the hot chocolate, and Bridge retrieved the dish of butter from his tray before it went unconsumed and unappreciated. Things were finally getting back to a quiet, morning norm.

And then he realized he'd forgotten his old running shoes on the bleachers by the track. Which meant another ten minutes lost when he went down to retrieve them, and of course he had to retrieve them just in case his new shoes started hurting, and he also didn't want to litter around the Academy. But ten whole minutes. If he had just remembered the shoes instead of the damn wheatgrass...


	10. Closer

**Disclaimer**: _Ree's mine. And the mother…sort of. PRSPD is the property of Disney's shareholders. _

**Author's Note**: _To my darling reviewers—tell me what you think of the connection between the stories and their respective themes, if you see a connection. Some are probably more blatant than others. These are Syd/Sky stories, but the challenge is in following the themes :)_

- -

**Closer **

She was afraid. Sky's departure for surgery hadn't seemed that big of a deal, but now that he was out, five and a half hours later, one and a half hours over schedule, what she saw made her throat tighten and her stomach knot.

He lay stiller than she has ever seen him. His entire head was encased in white gauze bandages, and a thin clear plastic tube led in somewhere to allow him to breathe. His skin was a little wan, and there were far more IV lines and equipment clustered around his bed than had been there pre-surgery. A monitor with familiar green squiggles let her know the rhythm of his heart, but she wasn't sure what the rest of the machines were for.

Only family was allowed for visitation technically this soon after the surgery, but Sky's sister had gone ahead and told the nurses on the ward that she and Sky were engaged; they just didn't wear their rings because they were in a rough-and-tumble kind of work. The not-so-little white lie definitely hadn't been Syd's idea, and Sky's doctor would know it wasn't true, but it had done its job in getting her here into his room. It was a strange temperature in here, too cold one minute and too warm the next. She stood closer to the door than to the bed, abhorring the smell of antiseptic and wondering if he hurt beneath those wrappings. He probably did. Every account she had read from recovering neurosurgery patients had said the same thing—that they felt like they'd been kicked in the head for the first couple of days post-surgery.

Why was she afraid to move closer?

She felt a faint revulsion—maybe that was it?—that something like this could happen to someone like Sky. A bad thing happening to a good person. The ache to just touch him and make everything all right again was overwhelming. But she had no such power. It had been some very trying weeks for him, for everyone that cared about him, and to have it all cumulate in such a—well, such a sad sight. All those bandages around his head made her paranoid that there was something much worse underneath, that that was why the bandages were really there. Was his face all swollen? His jaw stiff? The spots under his eyes darkened like two large bruises? If she unwrapped those gauze loops now, what would she find?

Sky's mom and sister Ree came into the room, flocking to Sky's bedside even as they said hello to her. She hung back, watched them hover over Sky, take their places easily on either side of him, fully knowing they belonged there. They whispered some things he probably couldn't hear, and grasped his limp hands in comfort.

Her own hesitance suddenly felt awkward, as if it somehow tarnished the moment with its uncertainty, with its inability to offer consolation. In a low, hoarse voice, she mumbled something about needing some fresh air and excused herself from the room.

Why did she feel like crying? Why was the relief so much harder to take than the long, tense wait?

She was tired—yeah, that's what it was. She needed to wind down properly, to soothe herself with the fact that Sky had made it through his operation just fine. What she really needed was a good night's sleep, but she didn't want to go back to the Academy just yet, in case Sky woke up. It was only six pm. She needed a place that didn't feel suffocating, which was a difficult feat in a place as hectic as a large city hospital. She ended up in the small cafeteria three floors down, where she bought a cup of coffee, not to drink but to hold for warmth. There weren't a lot of people there thankfully, but even so, she removed herself to a table by the window, where she sat for a long while watching the evening sun settle low over a foggy Golden Gate Park.

**x-x-x-x-x**

_Flashback_

She threw his arms off from around her and jammed an elbow backwards into his ribs. He faltered only slightly and tried to recapture her with his right arm. She ducked beneath it, sending a double kick to his stomach. He stumbled back, off balance, and she dropped down, sweeping his legs out from beneath him. He went down, but it didn't feel very satisfying.

The truth was, he wouldn't have gone down at all if he had really been trying to overtake her. Going against Sky in full capacity wasn't something she was ready to do just yet. Odds were that he would probably always be the better fighter of the two of them; he just had that natural instinct about when and where and how to move. His well-muscled, six-foot-one frame probably didn't hurt either.

It had been Sky's idea that they go over these close contact defensive maneuvers. Because of her short stature, opponents were sure to try to use their bigger size to subdue her bodily, and she had to learn to defend herself effectively against such attacks. They went through the drills over and over and over again, he playing the enemy and she throwing him off of her. She went through the movements like clockwork, gracefully even, but he insisted that she wasn't adequately prepared until she could do them without having to think about them.

To add some variety to their workout, they also went over ways she could subdue her opponents in turn. Again, because of her smaller frame, her best tactic was to employ a few clever twists of the arm. She needed to use leverage to offset an imbalance in strength. Like before, he went easy on her to teach her the basics, but on one round, he managed to untangle himself from her hold in what seemed an impossible feat of flexibility, and reciprocated the attack. She spun away to avoid being trapped, but he anticipated this. The exact play-by-play was a bit fuzzy, but in the end she found herself caught, arms twisted behind her, his arms locked tight on either side. Interesting enough, instead of facing away from him, they were pressed together chest to chest. Her shoulders ached faintly when she tried to squirm loose. His grip was firm around her wrists, which suddenly felt very small and delicate inside his larger hands.

He looked down at her, and it was then she realized his eyes had a green tint to them, not blue like she'd originally thought.

She struggled a little more before calling called forfeit. He immediately let her go and stepped back, the slightest smirk hovering on the corner of his lips. He didn't say anything as she carefully flexed her arms—not that he was ever one of many words. She smoothed out her t-shirt, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then asked,

"Can we try that one again?"

**x-x-x-x-x**

It was her morpher that let her know she'd fallen asleep, by virtue of being the thing that woke her up. By then, the sun was long gone and her coffee was cold. Groggily, she reached behind her for the little device and flipped it open.

"Syd here."

"_Hey, how are you holding up?_" It was Jack.

She rubbed her bleary eyes and sat up a little. "I'm all right."

"_You sure? You sound a little worn out there." _

"You woke me up."

"_Oh sorry. We just hadn't heard from you all day. How's Sky?"_

"Okay, I think. He made it out of surgery a little while ago." She didn't actually know yet how long she'd been asleep.

"_That's good to hear. Have you seen him yet_?"

"Yeah. He was still knocked out. We—we don't know if the operation worked yet or not."

"_We're all hoping it does. I actually kind of miss the guy, nagging and all." _Jack's voice was carefully light. _"Anyway, Cruger wanted me to pass along a message. He hopes the both of you are doing well, and that if you don't get yourself back to the Academy by morning, consider yourself suspended from duty._"

Syd winced. "Was he really mad when he found out I just left?"

"_He wasn't pleased, definitely, but he understands. He's got a planetary defense to run is all, so we sort of need you back here._"

"I know." She checked her watch; it was ten minutes to nine. "I didn't want to leave before Sky woke up, but I might have to anyway. It's been way too long of a day."

"_I can imagine. Take care, okay? And tell Sky we said get well soon if he's awake."_

"I will."

She closed the little communication device and raised her arms above her head, stretching languidly. Out of habit, she wondered if she looked as weary as she felt, in which case she would have looked pretty darn ragged, with dozens of new worry wrinkles. To her surprise though, the thought didn't seem quite as catastrophic as it used to seem. The majority of her focus was still on a hospital room three floors up, or in other words, outside of herself.

It was a tiring feeling.

She returned to Sky's room, which as before was dim and quiet. Ree and her mom were in chairs by the bed, talking in whispers when she entered. The sight of Sky made her pause again, or rather, the sight of bandages where a face should have been, but she forced her feet to keep moving forward. If for no other reason, she had to be closer for the other women to be able to hear her.

"Did he wake up yet?" she asked in a soft whisper.

Ree nodded and whispered back, "For a few minutes. He's doped up pretty good."

Syd smiled tiredly. "Probably to help with the pain." She reached for Sky's hand. "I have to get back to the Academy tonight."

"Are you going to come back? Or are any of the other Rangers?"

"Probably not, as much as we'd like to. We have to stay close to New Tech in case of trouble."

"That's okay." Ree glanced at her brother's sleeping form. "He won't be much fun for a few days anyway."

"Still."

She threaded her fingers through Sky's, finding the contours in which their hands fit together so perfectly. She stroked his knuckles, rubbed little circles in his palm, brought her other hand in to rest atop his. A few minutes later, she thought she felt his fingers curl just a little more.

She smiled, finding hope where she had been afraid just hours before. She decided to stay.


	11. Youth

**Disclaimer: **_Power Rangers SPD is (was?) the property of Disney Entertainment shareholders. _

**Author's Note: **_Extreme fluff ahead. You've been forewarned.  
_

- -

**Youth**

"What about that one?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's a turtle. How about that one?"

"Uh…"

"A cat. A very round one. What about this one?"

"A cloud."

She elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to make him cough.

"Spoilsport," she grumbled.

"Well, you asked what they look like to me."

"You're supposed to use your imagination." She studied the fluffy cumulus clouds drifting by overhead. "A lot of it."

He sighed. "It's a stupid game, Syd."

She tried to elbow him again, but he caught her arm in time. "Take that back!"

"No. I meant what I said."

"You're such a wet blanket. And a mean one at that."

"Why are you out here with me then?" Oh sure, _now_ he sounded amused.

"Because!" Her retort died out when she felt his fingers catch one of her blonde curls and tweak it. "How come you seem so annoyed until I get annoyed, and then you start lightening up?"

"I don't know." She wished he would play with more of her hair. "I like to annoy you."

"That's real mature."

His head rolled on its side to look at her, his eyes seeming brighter and as green as she'd ever seen them from mirth. His smile was worth all the annoyance in the world.

"I like annoying you, too," she confessed, leaning in closer so that their noses just barely touched. Green eyes to blue eyes. Chiseled dimples to rosy cheeks.

She had to resist a bone-deep urge to kiss him. They hadn't gotten around to anything more serious than token pecks yet, despite the fact that they were laying—quite closely—side by side on a picnic blanket in the local park, a wicker basket full of fruit and crackers by their feet. Sky was nothing but professional when they were working, which was most of the hours of the day and most of the days of the week. In the evenings, they were usually too tired (or had seen too much of each other in professional mode) to want to do more than to just sit together and commiserate a little, maybe nestle a bit if it was discreet, for the sake of their friends.

Now they were close together and alone, their lips just a hair's breath apart—she only had to pout a little harder make actual contact. But she refrained. It had taken all afternoon to get Sky to relax this much, and she didn't want him to tense up again, in case he wasn't in the mood.

Something moved by her foot at the end of the blanket, startling her enough to make her look down. Sky was using his foot to move the basket behind her back, so he could reach over her—leaving a maddening single inch between their bodies—and extract a cluster of grapes. It turned out Sky enjoyed feeding her Cleopatra-style, and queen treatment she was always amendable to, but…the man was a tease. A damnably oblivious tease.

She rolled onto her back once more as Sky propped himself up on an elbow and dangled the grapes over her mouth. A cool breeze blew by, making the corners of their blanket curl upward. She sighed contently, marveling at the utter peace that they rarely experienced in their hectic lives. It was an almost perfect day, relative to all other days, with just a few glitches she'd have to work on, mostly with the man beside her. For example, when the last grape was eaten, he tried to feed her the stem, and she had to capture his hand and scowl at him menacingly to get him to stop. He grinned at her displeasure and threw the stems back into the basket.

"Now what?" he asked after a long pause.

She hid a groan. Was the man just utterly incapable of relaxing, of giving over to laziness and inactivity for a rare day off like normal people?

"Here." She reached behind her into the basket and pulled out the last bunch of grapes. "Let me return the favor."

But instead of holding the fruit for him, she plucked one off and held it between her teeth, a seductive glitter in her eye that said 'come and get it'.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised, and for one moment she worried he wouldn't go along with it.

He leaned in and retrieved the grape, with a little bonus. Their lips—and their tongues, just a little!—met in a delicious little kiss. It made her giggle, a pleasurable shiver dancing down her spine as he licked a dribble of grape juice from her lower lip. But all too soon he pulled away, looking thoughtful as he chewed the fruit.

"Am I going to have to start everything between us?" she whined, frustrated that their moment had ended so abruptly, and worried it wouldn't start again.

"Maybe," he said, for the sheer purpose of exasperating her, she could tell. He let it draw out a little, until he had to know that she was going to hit him again for being such a brat. But, among other things, Sky was an ace at self-preservation, and he touched her cheek in an uncharacteristically intimate gesture that made her pause.

"Now there's nothing in the way."

She didn't need to be told twice to close the microscopic gap between their bodies. "I'll say!"

Their mouths met halfway this time, and they kissed, sometimes sweetly, sometimes like oxygen didn't matter, oblivious to everything but each other and the heady feeling of a blossoming romance, with a splash of hormones thrown in.

Meanwhile, overhead, their forgotten cumulus clouds rose higher in the sky and thinned out into wispy trails, their undersides blushing pink in the sunset at the sight of this young couple taking advantage of a public park.


End file.
